Surfacing
by Jessica237
Summary: Anytime she ever tumbles overboard, he's going down with her. And then, he's bringing her back to the surface. KD, post 3x17.


**Title: **Surfacing**  
By:** Jessica**  
Pairing: **Kensi/Deeks**  
Rating:** T**  
Timeline:** Post 3x16-17: Blye, K.  
**Summary: **Anytime she ever tumbles overboard, he's going down with her. And then he's bringing her back to the surface.

* * *

He's about to head out for a late evening run when he hears the knock at his door. It instantly changes his plans for the night because there's only one person it can really be, and that makes it a knock Deeks has been waiting four long days to hear – part of him had started to wonder if he would ever hear it at all. There's a smile at his lips as soon as he opens the door to her, and though he tries to ignore the sudden pang in his chest, there's no denying that seeing her there is a sight for sore eyes. "Hey, partner."

"Hey," she greets back quietly, voicing the words he's thinking. "Long time no see…"

"Been few days, yeah," he agrees, nonchalance in his voice. The inquiry is on the tip of his tongue then, but somehow Deeks manages to bite it back. There are a million questions he wants to ask her – how she's doing, if she's alright, if she and her mom are on the road to reconciliation…but the last thing he wants to do at all is give her a reason to regret coming to him tonight.

She nods in agreement, reaching up to tuck her hair – loose and slightly wavy around her face – behind her ears. She's dressed just as simply, jeans and a dark tee, but simplicity never takes away from just how gorgeous his partner is. And clearly he's not the only one taking in appearances at the moment; her eyes drift over him briefly, taking in his track pants and his half-zipped hoodie. "You heading out?"

His reply is immediate – after all, he'd changed his plans the minute she'd appeared at his door. "Nope. Actually just got back in from a run."

She knows he's lying but doesn't question him…because that would mean admitting just _how_ she knows he's lying. It's not just his appearance, which doesn't look at all like someone just back from a run; it's mostly the fact that she's been sitting in her car for twenty minutes, trying to pluck up the nerve to knock at his door – which baffles her, because it's never been difficult before. Tonight, though, after all that's happened and the amount of time since she's seen him, Kensi finds herself feeling a _tiny_ bit shy around him.

Which is _ridiculous_, and if her rib wasn't still giving her utter hell, this is the part where she'd challenge him to a friendly race to dissolve some of this strange tension. That's still not an option for her though, leaving her with little more to do than stand in front of him, teeth tugging gently at her lip as she searches the depths of her mind for some way to explain just why she's there – really, she wants to ask him what happened to the Deeks she knows, the Deeks who would have pestered her every moment of the past four days with texts and phone calls and sweets at her doorstep.

What leaves her mouth, though, is little more than a half-sentence. "So uh, I was a bit surprised that you…"

Kensi shrugs and lets it trail into silence, but Deeks doesn't need her to finish it to know exactly what he means, and honestly, it'd been just as weird for him as it appears to have been for her. Four days without her has been absolute agony. Not knowing how she was or what she was doing, not having her by his side at work or across from him in the bullpen or next to him as they make a quick stop for doughnuts…he's missed her more than he's willing to admit. He's caught himself more than a couple of times reaching for his phone, wanting to send a quick text her way, but each time, he's managed to stop himself. He might have even had the text typed out at least once, but caught himself just before hitting send.

"I, uh, thought you might want a few days to yourself," he explains finally, taking a slow step toward her. "I know you had a lot to…process. It was a lot to take in. And for once," he pauses, his lips twitching, "I didn't want to be the partner you always want to strangle. I wanted to be the partner who would give you the space you needed." With that, he breaks the connection between their eyes, biting his lip slightly as he glances briefly downward. "And I knew that when – _if_ – you wanted anything, you'd come to me."

Kensi purses her lips and lets his words sink into her. He's right – absolutely one hundred percent right. If he'd come to her that very night, she's not sure she would have been able to open the door, her emotions raw and too close to the surface after all that had happened. She thinks she might have opened the door the next day, but she's not sure she would have let him inside.

Of course, even knowing all that, it doesn't quite banish the disappointment she'd felt when he hadn't shown up at her door – that's Deeks; that's what he does. And though she'll never admit it, she'd missed that. Missed _him_.

Yeah, she'll _never_ admit that.

Instead, she puts on a smile. "Sometimes I don't know if I like how well you know me," she says lightly, embellishing her words with a quiet sigh.

Deeks smiles. "I'm your partner," he repeats simply, as if those three words are the answer to everything that exists between them. "It's my job to know you. _Really_ know you." And because he _does_ know her so well, he knows that that's a bold statement to make to Kensi Blye, who he knows has spent an immeasurable amount of time making sure it's damn near _impossible_ for anyone to get very close to her. So to defuse the tension of such a statement, he chuckles quietly, offering a light, playful bit of proof. "Why do you think I always keep two boxes of Twinkies in my desk at work?"

He sees the confusion flicker through her eyes and he can't help but smirk. "You only keep one box in there."

"Nope. Two." His teasing, smug grin only widens. "The other is hidden. And mine. And you will _never_ find it." He throws a playful wink her way. "The first is somewhere easy for you to find, just so you don't turn my desk into a warzone like yours trying to find it."

She laughs quietly, almost gingerly, and that doesn't go unnoticed by Deeks. Her words from what feels an eternity ago flit back to him, painted vividly with physical pain that makes him wince, even now. "_Don't make me laugh…"_

He steps aside and guides her in, his voice devoid of the teasing tone from moments before as he speaks again. "How's the rib?" As she steps past him, his eyes drift momentarily to her side. It may be covered now by the simple fabric of her dark tee, but he knows there's still a bruise lingering underneath; a bruise that, with the time that's passed, likely looks even worse than it had before.

She's quiet for a moment, but when she does finally speak, Deeks is mildly surprised by her honesty – after all, one of Kensi's many unbreakable rules is _never admit pain_. "It's…still bothering me." She shifts slightly on her feet as the admission flutters from her lips. "I, uh, I actually tried to go out for a jog yesterday morning…"

Closing her eyes, Kensi silently berates herself. For a woman who can go miles without even being winded, yesterday she'd been defeated by a single deep breath. The sharp, stabbing pain had torn through her, leaving her clutching her side not even that far away from her front door. "It'd been healing, but I…think I made it worse again…"

It's all Deeks can do not to roll his eyes – he doesn't _want_ Kensi in pain; of course not. But to push herself beyond all obvious limits far before she's ready to even begin to test those limits? That's one hundred percent Kensi and he's not really at all surprised. "Cracked rib's a little more than just a bruise, Kens. It's gonna take some time to heal."

She forces a chuckle. "Yeah, I think I'm at least another week or two away from being able to get back to my usual workout…"

He's not sure there's a reply there that _won't_ get him punched, so wisely Deeks keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he simply shakes his head and chuckles as he steps around her to close the door, brushing gently by her in the process.

It's the first time she's been this close to him since their clandestine meeting in her mother's garage, and though it's merely for a fraction of a second, that's all it takes. The memory of that meeting comes rushing back to her, stirring up thoughts and feelings she'd banished at the time for fear of letting them cloud her mind. That moment, with him…it'd been a moment of quiet tranquility in the midst of all the chaos. Though he likely didn't know it (and she's not going to admit it), he'd offered her the strength to push forward. He'd offered her the stability of their usual banter combined with his unspoken promise to let her do what she needed to do. He'd offered her something to hold on to.

And then, there was the heat…

She shivers now as tendrils of warmth wrap around her, just from the memory. A single, vivid memory; the memory of the heat of his touch against her bare skin. His hands, masculine and roughened by years of sometimes less than scrupulous undercover work, but oh so gentle as they'd inspected the garish mark at her side.

He's touched her before; in fact, they touch all the time.

This, though…

Somehow, it all felt so much more intimate, and not just because she'd been standing there in her bra.

It was the vulnerability; it was the gravity of the fact that she was letting him see her hurt; letting him see her come out from a fight a little worse off than when she'd gone in.

He's speaking again, breaking her (blessedly, she thinks) from her trance and without realizing it, she closes down just a bit because that little detour isn't one her mind is allowed to take. She's not allowed think about how she'd let him in while keeping the rest of the team firmly on the outside. She's not allowed to think about how her trust in him is starting to delve far beyond just trust in partners.

And she's certainly not allowed to shiver as the more primal part of her being briefly makes itself known; she's _not_ allowed to imagine his hands on her again. Not allowed to _want_ that.

So she forces it roughly from her mind and focuses on his voice. "You taking anything for it? Painkillers?"

Kensi scoffs. At that, Deeks can't help but smirk – sometimes, she's entirely too predictable. "I don't need any," she insists, defiance in her voice. "I'm good."

"You do remember that you got shot, right?"

"Uh, no," Kensi argues, narrowing her eyes. Because technically, she _didn't_. "My _vest_ got shot."

"Your vest wasn't the one gasping in pain."

"Vests don't usually do that anyway, seeing as they aren't _alive_."

"Yeah, well, you came pretty close."

She gets a bit of a shock when her eyes meet his – one look is proof enough that he's not kidding around. And it's too much for her – she's still too raw; she can't afford to lose herself in those deep blue eyes of his, not right now. He doesn't have to say just how terrified he was of losing her – it's right there in his eyes, and that's not something Kensi can face. Not right now.

So she looks away, focuses on the questionable pattern woven into his carpet ("_at least I can see my own carpet," _she knows he would retort) and tries as best she can to lock all of her emotions away. Only when she trusts herself to speak firmly does she open her mouth again, offering her standard – though somewhat softened – reply. "I'm fine, Deeks. Really."

He doesn't call her out on that…but he does persist. Typical Deeks. "I'm just saying. Getting shot is nothing to play around with - I saw the bruise, Kens. I saw you clutching your rib, gasping in pain. I saw that." He shrugs. "And I mean, I needed painkillers for a couple weeks after I got shot."

She's done with this. "That's because you're a big baby."

"And you're so stubborn that you'd let yourself die before admitting that maybe you're not always as tough as you pretend to be."

Kensi's never heard such an accusatory statement spoken so softly before, but she doesn't let his quiet tone defeat the indignance that bubbles up within her. "I got through it, didn't I?"

"Did you hear me say you didn't?"

"You implied I couldn't do it on my own."

"I don't think I did."

It's not his words that are getting to her – it's his calmness. He's riling her up without even raising his voice and not for the first time, she's cursing herself for the effect she lets him have upon her. Drawing herself to her full height, she ignores the flash of pain in her side and meets his gaze head-on. "I didn't come here for this, Deeks."

Her voice is nothing if not a quiet, deadly warning, and Deeks knows that if he hasn't yet crossed a line, he's pretty damn close. Perhaps it's that knowledge that stops him from asking the obvious follow-up question – the question of why she really _did_ come here.

Instead, he retreats. He's the one who surrenders; he's the one who sighs and breaks the connection between their gazes. "I know. I'm sorry," he says quietly. Lifting a hand, he rakes his fingers through his unruly hair, thinking for a moment on how best to put into words the fact that, whether now or before or in the future, _he cannot lose her_.

No words ever come, though, and another moment passes before Kensi takes the lead once more. Clearing her throat, she crosses her arms gingerly over her chest. "I promise I'm fine. It's just a bruise – I've had worse."

His next question is in the air before he can even think to stop it. "What about that nasty gash on your other side?"

Her fingers twitch, but rather than raise them to the wound in question, she keeps them clenched at her side. She'd had other things on her mind at the time, but she'd thought she'd done a better job hiding the majority of her injuries. Deeks knew about the rib, but she'd been pretty sure he didn't know about the knives, or the full-on brawl she'd found herself in with Clairmont. "You saw that?" she asks quietly.

To Deeks' credit, he glances sheepishly downward. "Actually, no. I didn't. I guessed." He pauses for a moment. "I could see that _he_ was pretty torn up. I figured with knives on both sides, there was a good chance you got nicked somewhere too."

She glares at him, though it's halfhearted at best. She should know this game by now; she doesn't tell him things but he finds out a different way. It's not the first time he's tricked her into an admission of pain. Sighing heavily, she lifts her hand and gingerly lays her palm over her shoulder, just above the still healing cut. "Shoulder, actually," she corrects him.

Deeks nods, mentally digging his feet into the ground. "How bad?"

Kensi shrugs, her face impassive. "Few band-aids patched it up. No big deal." Not entirely true…not even half-true, really…but Deeks doesn't need to know just how deep of a gash it was. He doesn't need to know the sharp burst of agony that shot through her as the blade pierced her skin. He doesn't need to know just how much it really bled; doesn't need to know that the white shirt she'd been wearing underneath the black jacket had been unsalvageable.

He doesn't press, though…at least not directly. "Yeah, well, you've got a pretty screwed up view of what is and what isn't a big deal." Pausing, he offers a half-shrug as a bit of an apology. "No offense. It's just…sometimes I think you're out of your mind, Agent Blye."

She takes that, as he'd known she would, as a compliment to her abilities. On the other hand, though, she's not entirely able to deny that on some level, he's got a point. Would any sane person have assumed the kind of mission she'd taken on?

Sighing heavily, Kensi lets her eyes dart back toward the door – these aren't really thoughts she wants to entertain tonight. Maybe it's best if she makes a quick getaway before her mind can delve much further…though she doesn't _really_ want to leave him. An hour before, she hadn't been about to talk herself out of this – she'd _needed_ to see him. The short break she'd taken from work, combined with the cushion of distance he'd felt compelled to keep…she's not going to come out and admit it to his face, but it'd left her missing her partner.

Now, though, she's not sure she can handle being here – it's not about whether she wants to or not. Her emotions are still too close to the surface and, from looking at him, hearing his voice, she can tell his are as well. So she clears her throat and makes a show of glancing down at her watch. "You know, it's getting a bit late, so I should probably go…"

Deeks shoots that down without a second thought. "Like hell you should," he says, placing himself between her and the door in just two quick strides. He grins, gently guiding her toward the couch with a hand at her uninjured shoulder, and suddenly, some of the tension seems to have lifted. "Down."

Her eyes narrow suspiciously as she repeats his command. "Down? What am I, Monty?"

Aside from a smirk, her partner ignores that. "Sit down," he presses, amusement tinting his voice. "I mean it." Crossing his arms, he attempts to drop his smile, but that's rendered completely useless by the twinkle that remains in his blue eyes. "Don't make me result to my charming yet devious ways to make you do what I want."

"I haven't seen anything I'd call charm yet, so I'm not worried."

Deeks ignores that playful barb. "Come on, you just got here. And I didn't let my partner go off the grid for four whole days just so she could pop in and back out again in the span of ten minutes. You know better than that," he adds, grinning. "You knew I wasn't going to let you off _that_ easily. Especially since you owe me a movie night, remember? You should go ahead and pay up while you're here."

She rolls her eyes, but doesn't fight as he once again directs her to the couch. "As long as you promise me it's not Coyote Ugly again," she complains, a tiny smile tugging at her lips regardless. "Anything but that."

"Lucky for you, I was thinking something with…a little more water." He offers her a sly wink. "And you _know_ they don't serve water in _that_ bar."

Kensi groans. "One more quote from that damn movie and I'm gone, Deeks."

Deeks just laughs. "Don't worry, Fern," he teases, making his way leisurely toward his DVD cabinet. Kensi's lips twitch as he opens the door, revealing a few shelves of movies that she knows for a fact are much more organized than her own collection. He doesn't go as far as to alphabetize them or anything, but at least his actually make it back to the case. She watches as he pretends to skim through the titles contained within before selecting the one he'd had in mind the whole time. "I think you're going to like this one," he says, flashing the front of the case to her.

She tries to fight it back, but in the end, Kensi can't stop the smile that breaks upon her lips. "I don't know if I should be impressed or embarrassed that you have that," she teases, taking in the familiar cover.

Titanic. She really shouldn't be surprised…

Deeks gives her a grin then, and she'll swear it has her stomach turning a flip. "Sit down," he repeats, watching as finally she gives in to his request. "I'll order a pizza, grab a few beers from the fridge, we'll watch people die in the ocean…it'll be awesome, yeah?"

* * *

A couple hours later, a few bottles of beer and an empty pizza box clutter his coffee table (though it's still much neater than hers, Deeks can't help but think). The only light in his den is the soft flicker from the movie playing on the screen before them; it offers an ethereal, bluish glow that Kensi is tempted to let guide her into somnolence. She's still not entirely rested up (she's faced too many sleepless hours over the past four days for that), so it would be easy, _too_ easy to close her eyes and drift. Especially…like this.

She doesn't know how they ended up here; she never figures that one out, no matter how many times it happens. And happen before it has – there's been more than a few nights after the roughest of cases that she couldn't – or didn't _want_ to – get rid of her partner; plenty of nights that the darkness has succumbed to the dawn only to reveal her body curled into his, his arms draped around her.

The first time it happened, they'd just laughed it off. She'd made fun of him for clearly being a cuddler; he'd teasingly accused her of liking it too much. The second time, she'd playfully attempted to shove him off the couch, demanding that he make her breakfast – he'd obliged, and it had been _delicious_. By the fourth time it happened, it had seamlessly woven itself into their indefinable and seemingly unstoppable _thing_.

And now, here they are again, and it feels just as natural as breathing. Deeks on his back on the couch, Kensi curled into his side, her head on his shoulder, nestled in the crook of his neck, an arm lazily draped around her in the darkness as they watch the movie.

She's not really watching, though, favorite movie or not. Try as she might to stop it, her mind had begun to drift somewhere around the sixty minute mark. The distraction in the comfort of her favorite movie and the warmth of her partner's body against hers had only protected her for so long before the darker, colder thoughts began once more to creep in.

When she thinks back on it all, it's clear just how far she'd gone. Truly, she had almost lost herself. In the aftermath, there's no denying that. She'd been reckless and impulsive and more determined than she'd ever been in her entire life. She'd been so close she could _taste_ it; so close that to turn back would have been utterly impossible. She hadn't had it in her to turn back, even at the first indication that she might've been in over her head.

At the time, there'd been no question in her mind – for answers, there was nothing she wouldn't do. Nothing she wouldn't sacrifice.

And she _had_ almost sacrificed it all.

Her life, her career, her partner (though she'd _tried_, at least, to push him away)…she'd almost lost it all. She'd been possessed by the burning need for the truth and now, if she's honest with herself in the aftermath, she's not sure she recognizes the woman she'd become over the past several months. Months of chasing leads, questioning suspects, lowering herself to somewhat unscrupulous measures in her quest for finality.

She knows what she's done.

The question that haunts her at night, though, is what she _might_ have done. How far she would have gone.

And that's not something she'll ever really have the answer to.

She's lain awake late into the night now every day since, just pushing her mind repeatedly through the entire ordeal while her dark, tired eyes stare blankly at the ceiling above. There's a certain memory, a specific moment in time that haunts her though, a certain memory that chillingly wraps around her, crumbling the strength of her exterior as if it were sand and nestling deep inside, warning her that should she _dare_ try to find sleep, the nightmares will be much worse than just the memories. And though she'll never admit it by daylight, she's a lot more frightened by the nightmares than she is of the memories.

Every time she closes her eyes, she sees herself standing at the top of that staircase. She sees herself glaring coldly down at Clairmont, beaten and broken at the bottom of the stairs. Four days later, and she still feels the handle of the knife digging into the palm of her hand. Four days later, and she still feels the fiery _hatred_ pulsing through her veins, the intense fury that had gripped her as she'd stared down at the man who had ruined her life all those years ago.

He would never know the pain she'd gone through at fifteen; he would never know the despair, the cold, haunting loneliness, the all-encompassing _agony _she'd lived with every day since.

_But she could make him suffer now._

_She could make him pay._

_She could end his life, just as he'd so callously ended her father's._

The adrenaline had blinded her; the sound of rushing blood echoing in her ears had deafened her. Vengeance. Justice. The line between the two had blurred; they were one and the same to her. She'd just wanted to bring it all to an end and, in that moment, the means meant very little to her.

If she'd had a gun in her hands, Kensi's not certain she'd have stopped herself from taking that shot.

Or several.

The man was a murderer.

And she'd almost allowed herself to become the same.

As it is, she'd been willing to stand atop those stairs and watch as Clairmont's breaths grew more labored; as the blood from several well-placed swipes of a knife soaked through his clothing; as the force of the fall itself led him slowly toward the end.

And she would have gladly let that happen.

Now, though, she's not able to suppress the shudder that seizes her body.

In their current cozy position, that's not something she can hide from Deeks – no, he feels it immediately. Granted, he knows her attention hasn't been on the movie for quite some time now; he's not blind, after all. Ever gently, he draws his fingers along her spine a couple of times, a silent reassurance that he's there. "You okay?"

For a long time, she's silent. It's only when he thinks she's not going to reply at all that she speaks, her voice soft, barely above a whisper. He hears it loud and clear, though. "I'm…I just keep thinking…"

She shifts against him as the admission leaves her lips; she tries to minimize the motion as much as she can because it stems from unease, but ultimately, she can't. She can't, and Deeks tilts his head just slightly, just enough that his quiet murmur disappears right into her dark, wavy locks. "Wanna talk?"

Her first instinct is to say no. After all, this is the kind of thing that Kensi Blye keeps locked securely away from the rest of the world. These are _her_ demons; most of the time, she refuses even to acknowledge them herself so of course sharing them with anyone else is strictly forbidden because in the end, she _has_ to be _one of the guys_. For Callen or Sam or Deeks – _especially Deeks_ – to see her as anything less is just utterly unacceptable.

So she's not sure what has the words dancing upon her lips when instinct tells her to hide them away. Perhaps it's the trust, or the cover of darkness, or the inherent intimacy in being curled against him on his couch…maybe it's a combination of all of the above and then some. For whatever reason, suddenly she's opening to him the part of her life that she's spent countless moments alone with, not just over the past four days, but really for the greater part of her life. "You know, after the debrief and everything, Hetty pulled me aside," she begins on a sigh. "There were…a few more pieces to the whole story. Pieces that Granger held."

Deeks tenses at the mention of the other man. He may have proven his allegiance, but that doesn't mean Deeks is ready to welcome Granger to the team with open arms. And he's sure not ready to trust the assistant director, not after how secretive he'd been over the past several months. He'd been unwilling to share information; as far as Deeks is concerned, the man had pressed forward in the case without regard to Kensi's career or freedom. Until he'd had clear evidence of Kensi's evidence, he'd proceeded in what felt like a _guilty until proven innocent_ kind of way – he sure hadn't gone out of his way to prove Kensi's innocence.

And Deeks knows it's going to take time for him to forgive Granger for that. He doesn't think he'll ever trust the man, though.

He says nothing, though; he merely listens as she continues. "He, uh, one of the things he gave me was my dad's sniper journal. It wasn't just records of his kills and assignment stuff…it – it was filled with letters." Kensi pauses for a breath. "Letters to me. And reading those…it's the closest I've felt to him since I was a kid. It was almost like – like he was back here with me. He – he couldn't send me letters while he was gone…because his location was classified, right? His teenage daughter wasn't allowed to know where he was or when he was coming home."

Her voice trembles a bit, but Kensi closes her eyes and steadies herself, focusing on the strong beat of her heart and the rhythmic filling of her lungs. Simple, routine actions. "I knew he couldn't send me anything, so I never really thought he'd actually written anything. It was…a nice surprise. He always told me stories when he came home, but this…this was somehow more personal. It was _every_ letter that I _always_ wished he'd been able to send me. Telling me where he was, how beautiful it was there despite the kind of work he sometimes had to do…telling me that that was one of the important things about life, that no matter what's happening, there's always beauty if you'll only look for it."

For a moment Kensi has to stop, because the emotion is coming much too quickly for her to shove back. Discreetly, she clenches a fist at her side, hoping Deeks doesn't realize she's doing it. She thinks it's probably futile though, because as she begins again, her voice is thick. "He wrote that he wished he could actually talk to me, rather than just writing me letters he knew I might never see. He wrote about – about wishing he knew how I was, where I was, what I was doing…and how he – he wanted nothing more than to come home to me. That the work he was doing was great and all, but it was nothing compared to being home, watching me grow up."

She sniffles then – she's not able to hide it. Her strength is quickly being wiped out by the desperate need to keep herself composed, because she _can't _break down in her partner's arms like this. She can't. "I – I've read every page of it over and over since then – every time I pick it up, I just can't put it back down again because I – I _hear _him, and it's almost as if he's home…"

The tears finally squeeze their way through her eyelids, and while Kensi hates herself for it, she knows that's the beginning of the crumbling of her resolve. Especially since now she's slowly getting to what truly leaves her heart aching, utterly _aching._ If one thing is clear from her father's words, it's that his little girl was _everything_ to him. That she was the reason he fought; that she was what kept him fighting when he felt he couldn't fight anymore.

It was no secret just how proud he was of her and the mature young woman she'd been growing into.

And it's those particular words, scattered in countless places throughout that journal, that break her down. "He wrote over and over just how proud he was of me, and – and all I can think about now is just how – how disappointed he had to be in me that night. How much I had to have let him down."

There. It's out in the open now, even if the words do sound foreign to Kensi's own ears. She thinks they must sound foreign to him too, because he quickly questions her. "What? Why would you think that?"

She shrugs, then figures now is as good a time as any to open the door to her past. Taking a moment, she breathes and pulls herself together again, borrowing a bit of strength from the steady caress of Deeks' hand at her back. And then, she dives in. "I was fifteen," she begins, taking him along with her back to the months leading up to _that night_, the one that's plagued her for fifteen long years. "I was fifteen, and…well, there was a boy."

Deeks hums softly. For a quick second, he debates interrupting at all…but then decides that she can use a bit of lightheartedness. "There's _always_ a boy."

He teases a slight smile out of her, and that she appreciates more than anything right now. "There's not _always_ a boy," she retorts quietly. "And this…well, he wasn't just _any_ boy. He was eighteen – a senior. And I wasn't allowed to date yet – you know, dads and their daughters…"

She sighs heavily, but it becomes clear with Deeks' next words that they have differing views on the subject. "No, I get it. My future daughter isn't allowed to date until she's thirty."

He says it with such gravity in his voice that Kensi can't help but chuckle. Discreetly she lifts a hand, quickly swiping at her eyes – maybe, now that he's got her smiling, she'll be able to continue on without breaking.

Kensi knows, though, that that would be a small miracle. Even so, she holds to the lightness for just a moment more. "You don't think twenty is a bit more realistic?"

"Nope. Thirty." He chuckles. "I was a teenage boy once. I know exactly what they're thinking."

"That's because you still think like that, Deeks."

"And would you want your future daughter anywhere around me?"

"No, but that's because that would be creepy on _so_ many levels." He smirks, but otherwise doesn't refute that, and Kensi carries on. "Anyway. He was cute. He was popular. He was the star of the football team. And me…well, I was _so_ in love with him."

There, Kensi pauses, her lips curving and her cheeks tinting softly as just how silly it all seems now. "I mean, I nearly _died_ when my best friend, who knew him through her older brother, told me that I'd caught his eye. I mean, out of all the girls in the whole school, it was _me_.

"Fast-forward a couple of months, and we'd been talking between classes and after school, when I'd go watch him at practice. It was fun, but things were slow-moving, and I started thinking nothing would happen with it." She sighs then, mostly for dramatic effect. "And then…there was Titanic."

"Titanic," Deeks muses quietly, his eyes darting momentarily to the all but ignored movie still playing on the screen before them. "Guess that closet romantic you keep hidden underneath that badass exterior of yours has always been there, huh?"

She thinks she should probably refute that, but Kensi doesn't. Doesn't, because really, it's kind of hard to refute when she's nestled in his arms like this on his couch, the only light in the den the soft glow from the TV. "At least I'm a girl – what's your excuse?" she teases good-naturedly.

Deeks just smirks. "Ladies love a sensitive guy."

"Oh, that's what you are?"

"Don't act like it doesn't make you swoon."

Kensi snorts. "Well, it worked for him, anyway…" She shrugs, surrendering to that romantic side of herself. "I couldn't remember _ever_ wanting to see a movie so badly – and it wasn't _just_ because he'd asked me."

"It was also that sexy DiCaprio, huh?" Deeks smirks. "Does things to you?"

"Oh God, _stop_," Kensi groans. It's a halfhearted request at best, though, because right now, the playful interruptions are what's holding her together. If not for the teasing, the gentle banter that makes them who they are, she thinks she'd probably be tearing at the seams. And, even as she's close to that, she can't deny that her partner never fails to make her laugh. Never.

And that's never been quite so important to her as it is now, when she's mending herself both physically and emotionally. Right now, the pillars of their partnership are what she's clinging to with every last ounce of strength in her body.

And so she continues. "So yeah, he asked me if I would go see it with him. I nearly _died_ right there on the spot." Years later, she can't help but laugh softly at herself, shaking her head. Inwardly, she's cringing at the memory of her teenage self…yet at the same time, she finds herself yearning for a bit of that carefree innocence once again. "It was…_I_ was ridiculous," she admits. "Pure teenage infatuation; you know how that can be. I mean, he'd asked me on one date, and I was so far gone that I was already imagining him asking me to go to senior prom with him in the spring. I was picturing him the next fall, coming home from college on the weekends to see me instead of hanging out on campus with his buddies."

Deeks can't help but grin – he's having a difficult time imagining his girl (_dammit, Deeks, stop that,_ he mentally chides himself. _Stop_.), this tough, resilient woman in his arms dissolving into giggles and tumbling head over heels like that, even at fifteen, despite having glanced a few times a bit of that romantic side she keeps securely under wraps.

It's cute, he thinks.

Cute, and a little sad, if he's fully honest.

Sad, because Deeks doesn't want to think about the horrors in her life between then and now, horrors that shaped a good portion of who she is today. Not that there's a thing he'd change about this woman, his partner currently nestled against him on his couch – her strength, her determination, her attitude, her confidence, her fearlessness…he loves every damn bit of it – even her recklessness, though he swears it's going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

It's the thought, though, that maybe Kensi Blye wasn't always like that. People grow and evolve, Deeks knows. But such a drastic change can't just be attributed to simple growth and evolution. This tale that she's recounting to him…that's a completely different Kensi than the one he's holding now. A completely different Kensi, younger and innocent and as of yet unmarred by the horrors that would color the next several years of her life.

Her father's murder, the lack of answers, Jack…and those are only the ones Deeks knows. There's something else there too – he's caught it in her eyes a time or two, just enough to know there _is_ something more in her past, something she doesn't want to think about, something _he_ doesn't want to think about, but something that's there, all the same.

It's all of those horrors, Deeks is certain, that took the fifteen year old girl from Kensi's tale, so carefree with her heart and her emotions, and shaped her into this woman who is so incredibly guarded that she doesn't let herself get closer to anyone than a first date allows. Doesn't let herself get attached lest she wake up alone again; doesn't let herself feel lest she find herself drowning in a cascade of emotions she just can't stop. Doesn't let herself trust for fear that she'll find herself let down yet again.

Right then, he solemnly swears to himself that he's not going to be the next person who lets her down, especially not after her desperate confession days ago in the garage.

_"And you're the only person I trust." _

They've come a long way as partners, he thinks. Deeks isn't about to let that disintigrate, not if he has his way.

He shakes those thoughts, though, sticking to what comes so naturally to them as he replies. "Sounds like the love of your life there, huh?" he murmurs, amusement dancing upon his words.

A burst of warmth slowly fills Kensi's cheeks. "Don't mock me," she reproaches playfully. "I was just a kid, Deeks."

He shrugs. "No. I think it's cute."

"Yeah, well…" It's here that her tale begins to grow heavier. "My dad didn't think so. He told me no – like I said, I wasn't allowed to date yet and he wasn't going to relent. I guess it made sense – I mean, he didn't want me out on a Friday night, alone with a boy nearly three years older than me. Said that if I wanted to round up a few more people and go to the Saturday afternoon showing instead, that would be fine.

"But it wasn't fine with you."

Kensi shakes her head. "I…kind of wanted to be able to say I'd had my first date. I didn't want to go on a Saturday afternoon, and I didn't want to go in a group because…you know…" Pausing, she gives a little shrug that Deeks can't help but find adorable. "I didn't want to be in a group in case he wanted to kiss me." She blushes again (she thinks she's done more of that tonight than in the past ten years combined) and waits for the cheeky comment she just knows is coming from her companion.

It never comes, though, and after another moment passes, Kensi swallows and carries on. "I wanted this more than I'd wanted anything – even more than I wanted a car or my learner's permit, which my dad was making me wait until I turned sixteen to get."

"Probably with good reason."

That earns Deeks a slight punch to the upper arm. "What, I'm just saying!"

She ignores him and carries on. "I _begged_ him to let me go. Over and over for the entire week. I bargained with him every way I knew how – I promised I'd be home early. I promised I'd keep my room clean," she pauses to lob another punch Deeks' way for his disbelieving snort. "I promised I would do all my homework for the weekend before I went. I offered to wash the car on Saturday. I mean, anything you can think of, I put it out there, because I was willing to do _anything_ just for this one night.

"None of it mattered, though," she continues on a sigh, closing her eyes as Deeks' fingers pick up a gentle cadence over her back. It's as if he knows – and truly, he probably does, she thinks – that she's coming to the part that's going to break her. She wishes she could say with absolute certainty that it won't, but she can't because from this point forward, she's never shared _any_ of this with anyone else. Not with the clueless therapist she spent a grand total of two sessions with after her father's death, not with Jack, not with Nate, no one. The words at her lips now, they've been her burden to carry alone for fifteen years and she just hopes with everything in her that they don't cut her too deeply.

The last thing she wants is to break.

As nice as his arms feel around her, it's not acceptable for her to _need_ them around her. She won't let that happen.

"So, it's Friday," Kensi continues finally. "It's Friday, and I'm desperate. Of course, I hadn't said that I _couldn't_ go with him, so he expected me. I was determined to make it work. My dad, though…he was still unwilling to budge. And we fought about it, right there at the dinner table. It…was pretty bad. I should have known I was in deep trouble when he started using my full name – always bad when parents pull out that middle name, you know? At the time though, I was just…defiant. I was defiant and determined and I wanted this more than I wanted to breathe so I refused to let it go.

"I stood up from the table and said I was done with dinner, which I hadn't even touched. He told me to sit back down…but I was too far gone at that point. There were some, uh, choice words that came out of my mouth. Raised my voice to him, which I had _never_ done before."

She pauses, drawing in a slow, steadying breath. "Needless to say, that didn't change his mind. In addition to that, he grounded me for a month for refusing to let it drop, and for raising my voice to him. My dad had _never_ grounded me before…really, we'd never even _fought _before, at least not like this.

"I was _so_ angry at him, Deeks," she says, her voice soft. It doesn't have to wobble, though, for Deeks to pick up on the level of emotion within it. "I mean, I – I was a teenager. I didn't know there were more important things. This was _all_ I wanted. All I wanted, and – and he was just…_keeping_ me from it. At the time, I couldn't figure out why he was…_punishing_ me. I was a good kid."

She exhales deeply and closes her eyes, hating herself for not being strong enough to battle back the fiery sting of tears. "And that's why I feel like the last thing I ever did was disappoint him, because those letters he wrote me…" Kensi sinks her teeth into her lip momentarily, letting the quick flash of pain briefly distract her from the regret she knows she'll never let go of. "He was _so_ proud of the woman I was becoming, but that night, I was nothing but a – a child.

"When I stomped away from dinner that night, I was crying; I was still yelling at him – more like a bratty teenager than the young woman he'd brought me up to be. He called after me, but I didn't go back. I just – I yelled down the stairs at him. I – I said that he was ruining _everything_. I told him that – that I _hated_ him."

By now she's shaking. Can't stop it. She brings a hand to her mouth as if to stop the sobs wanting to force their way out, but at this point, even Kensi knows she's too far gone. "Oh God, Deeks, I told my own dad that I hated him…over a _boy. _And those – those were the last words I _ever_ said to him."

She allows herself a moment; focuses on her partner's touch and his scent as she buries her face against him; focuses on the sound of his breathing and the voices from the movie that sound as if they're a million miles away. It takes a bit longer than she's okay with, but eventually she can continue. "That night, I came home, snuck back in the same way I'd snuck out. It didn't matter though, because he would never come home.

"I made it my mission to find the truth," she continues. "I always felt like I owed him that, especially when the military police could find no solid answers. They said that there was nothing. So I guess I felt like if…if I could find something, that could be my repentance. My apology. So in a way, Granger was right. I _did _join NCIS just to find the answers. I searched _everywhere_. I dug deep. I pushed hard. I refused to give up. And I had anger, and determination, and _drive_. It kept me sane. It kept me pushing harder. Farther. I needed closure like I needed air, and _nothing_ was going to stop me. It was _everything_.

"And now – now I've found what I was looking for. Now I don't have the anger, the fury, the determination – it's not there anymore; there's no reason for it anymore. And – and…"

She falters, her words stumbling over the lump in her throat. This time, though, it won't be pushed back. It won't be ignored because now she's facing everything she's refused to face for fifteen years, and that's a long time to be held back. Fifteen years is a long time to simmer beneath the surface, waiting for the right time to burst through.

It's not that she'd thought she'd get more out of the answers, because Kensi Blye is not, nor has she ever been delusional. She's known since the beginning that while she might find the answers to every last question, none of them would bring her father back in the end. She'd never thought that.

But at some point, though, she'd managed to convince herself that finding those answers would finally close that door for good. She'd convinced herself that those answers would be the end of it all – the end of the questions, the end of the emotions.

And she _hates_ herself right now, because _dammit_, she's crumbling. Her resolve is crumbling, her strength is fading, she's tumbling overboard and there is _nothing_ she can do about it because suddenly, she's fifteen again and the police are at the door with the news that her dad is never coming home again. She's fifteen again, filled with teenage emotion and heartache and grief and in this moment, it's too much for her. The tears cloud her eyes and the ache in her chest grows and intensifies, squeezing her lungs until she just can't breathe.

But still she fights. Gasping for oxygen that doesn't come; pulling at a door that's already flown open, she fights. "Now it just – it just _hurts_. And I – I can't - I –"

It's over. She's done. The walls are down and that's the end. It starts with a single sob, wrenched out of her with an agony that's unlike anything she's ever felt before. Suddenly, the bruise at her side and the gash on her shoulder are nothing compared to the crushing, breaking agony in the center of her chest. She can't see, can't breathe, can't even fight when she feels Deeks wrap his arms fully around her, gathering her as close to him as he can.

He tucks her head gently beneath his chin offering her every last bit of strength he has. Her body trembles violently against him with the emotion she's been trying so hard to suppress. Fifteen years of tears she's never let fall; fifteen years of emotion she's likely never slowed down long enough to let catch up to her. And, perhaps more than anything, fifteen years of grief he'll bet anything she's likely never faced. "Let go, Kens," he breathes softly, his voice breaking down the last remaining wall. "Let it go."

And that's it.

She clutches her fingers in the material of his shirt, a single, physical handhold while the rest of her collapses. The tears come, carried on rough sobs that wrack her body and destroy Deeks' heart. And he says nothing as she cries – there's nothing _to_ be said. Instead, he lets her cry against him, tears held back for far too many years soaking into his chest. He _knows_ she hates this; knows it's likely killing her, but there's nothing about this at all that changes how he sees her. The tears might fall from her eyes and the sobs might wrack her body, but that doesn't change the fact that the woman in his arms is the strongest person he knows.

His own strength, though, is questionable right now. Inside, his heart is being torn utterly to shreds because this is Kensi, _his _Kensi, his partner and best friend and probably a million other things and the thought of her carrying around this much heartache all by herself for over a decade…it's agonizing to him. He's sure he's not too far off from the truth when he thinks she's probably never shared _any_ of this with anyone else before.

The fact that it's _him_…that she would trust him that much after all she's been through…it blows him away.

Once she begins to settle again, Deeks reluctantly loosens his hold on her, but Kensi makes no effort to move. It's only once she relaxes against him completely and the last of her sniffles have died away that Deeks breaks the silence. It's probably not his place to say it, but he can't let Kensi leave here _without_ saying it. "Can I tell you what I think?" he asks softly, seeking permission.

"Yeah, of course," she says quietly, her voice still thick with emotion. She lifts her head then, meeting his eyes for the first time since she slipped into place beside him. "What is it?"

"It's just that…" For a moment, he simply holds her gaze – her still reddened, emotion-filled gaze. "You say you feel like you let him down, but I think your dad would be proud of you for never giving up. I think he'd be proud of who you've become, considering that after everything you've been through, you could have just…given up."

Kensi shakes her head. "I couldn't…"

He smiles – that's his Kensi. "That's what I'm saying. You knew what you wanted, what you _needed_, and you refused to give up on it. You fought for it, without sacrificing who you are."

"Yeah…I wonder about that…" She exhales heavily; these are the dark thoughts that have haunted her most; this is what she knows she'd have nightmares about, were she to sleep. "I had him there, on the ground. If you guys hadn't shown up then, I – I honestly don't know if I could have stopped…"

"He tried to kill you." Deeks takes one hell of a chance here, gently touching his knuckle to Kensi's cheek. "He killed your dad. Your dad's team. And he tried to kill you."

"That doesn't make it any better."

"But it makes it understandable." He rolls his jaw, contemplating his next words – they may go just a bit too far, but really, if she doesn't know by _now_ that he'd do anything in the world for her, she never will. "Let's just say it wouldn't have been pretty if I'd gotten my hands on him."

Kensi swallows hard, trying to ignore the tingle, the spark at her cheek from his touch. "You're the one who said that wasn't who we are, though," she points out quietly.

Deeks sighs heavily. For a moment, he contemplates his own confession before throwing caution to the wind – she's already shared more with him than he'd ever expected. "Frank Scarli," he says finally, turning his ocean blues to the dark ceiling. It takes a moment for the name to click for Kensi, but when it does, her memory is quickly assaulted by the same images playing through Deeks' mind. She sees the LAPD detective, his back to the car, clearly going down but not without one final low blow toward the man who'd gotten as much closure as possible from the case. She sees vividly, almost as if it's happening again right in front of her, as Deeks pulls a gun on the other detective, mere seconds away from pulling the trigger. One more word from Scarli's mouth, and he might've. "I'll never know what I would've done if you hadn't – if you guys hadn't been there that day."

Before Kensi can say anything, he turns his gaze back to her. "I know it's not the same at all, but…I just…I think we can't linger on it because we don't know. Maybe you didn't stop me. Maybe we didn't stop you. Maybe we never would have done it anyway." He quirks his lips then in a smile. "But I'm not going to let you lay here and ponder the what ifs."

He reaches out then, his touch bolder than before as he gently ruffles her hair before smoothing it back. "And as for fifteen year old Kensi," she rolls her eyes at this and Deeks smiles, knowing he's bringing her back from the dark. "I think that your dad would say it's time for you to forgive yourself."

She opens her mouth to dispute that, but the knowing look in Deeks' eyes stops her in her tracks. He knows for a fact that she's been carrying this ever since that night, so she doesn't bother pretending now.

"You don't even know if my dad was the forgiving type."

"No. But I do know that his daughter is the kind of person you just can't stay mad at." He winks playfully, an accompanying smirk upon his lips. "Trust me. I've tried. Doesn't work. She just gives me that pout and next thing I know, I'm buying her two dozen doughnuts."

His grin turns serious as his words scratch the deeper meanings just beneath the surface. "In fact, I think she's got me so tightly wrapped around her finger that no matter what she says or does, there's still nothing I wouldn't do for her." Gently he twirls a finger in a lock of her dark hair, the blood in his veins pulsing with the utter truth in every last one of his words. "I'd go to the ends of the earth for her," he finishes quietly.

A deep shiver envelops her body at his words and though she knows deep within her that she'd do the same for him, that's a heavier revelation than she's able to face at the moment. It's a revelation that speaks of emotions she can't and won't yet name, emotions she _hates_ because she can't control them. She can't control the fact that this _thing_ between them, this thing they both acknowledge but never really talk about, continues to grow and deepen. And she can't control just how incredibly _good_ this feels – his arms around her, his low voice in her ears, the way she's wanting more and more just to fall into him, despite all of the barriers she's put in place to stop that from ever happening.

She'd thought she could, but the reality is that she can't control _any_ of it. And that terrifies her.

Swallowing hard, she tries to look away from him, but she can't tear her eyes away. Can't stop the pounding of her heart against her chest; can't find the strength to fill her lungs with oxygen. "Deeks…"

It's a whisper, barely even there and yet it speaks of everything she feels. Everything she feels for him, about _them_, everything she fears – it all comes through in just one whisper of his name.

"I mean that," he asserts, gently cupping her cheek with his palm. His eyes flicker quickly to her lips, and _damn_, he suddenly wants it to be a different night, a different circumstance, a different reason that she's in his arms so he can kiss those beautiful lips.

It's then that he realizes just how in over his head he is with this…this _thing_.

It's then that he realizes that he's completely, utterly head over heels in love with her.

And that…that is dangerous.

This moment is dangerous.

So he chooses to defuse it the one way he knows how; break the moment without sending her scrambling from his arms. "Remember what you told me when I got shot? How I wasn't getting rid of you that easily? Well, that works both ways, princess." He grins then, his trademark devilish glimmer in his eyes. "I'm too involved now. You jump, I jump. I can't turn away without knowing you'll be alright."

He doesn't even get to finish his sagely proclamation before she erupts in a burst of laughter. In that moment, she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen – beautiful smile, disheveled hair, reddened eyes and all. They've shared countless movie nights together; some of those nights, they've even woken up tangled in each other the next morning, but this one…no matter how it ends, there's no way they walk away separately. They're entwined, tightly woven together, and even though she's been in his arms like this before, it's the openness and the trust between them that makes it final tonight.

He tries to keep a straight face, as Kensi's laughter dies away, but it's futile when he knows that she's onto his playful scheme. "Pulling a quote right out of my favorite movie…the one we just happen to be watching right now – that supposed to make me go weak at the knees?"

Deeks scoffs, rolling his eyes as if the idea is just ludicrous. "Of _course_ not." He pauses for a moment, smirking at the raised eyebrow he gets in return. "Why would I need to do that when I've _already _got you in my arms?"

"You're _so_ lame," she teases, and if Deeks didn't know better, he'd swear there's a hint of a giggle behind her words.

"You know what else is kind of lame?"

"Aside from the fact that you didn't challenge me calling you lame?"

Deeks ignores that. "Titanic in 3-D. I don't – I keep seeing the ads for it and I don't see what the big deal is," he rants as Kensi watches amusedly. "Does it change anything? I mean, do 3-D glasses make it easier for the captain to see the iceberg? Does it change the ending? Does the ship not sink after all? Or maybe Jack lives!"

"Oh my God, Deeks." She laughs – really, truly laughs. "I can't – I don't even – it doesn't make that big of a difference!"

"Then you agree that re-releasing it in 3-D is pointless."

"No. That is not what I said, and when you come see it with me, you'll see."

Deeks grins, lifting a brow. "I think you just asked me on a date, Agent Blye."

She protests immediately. "Uh, _no_. A movie itself is not a date." She rolls her eyes. "Dinner and a movie – _that's _a date."

Deeks doesn't miss a beat. "You don't think by the time I buy you half the concession stand, that it then qualifies as dinner and a movie?"

"You're a jerk sometimes, you know that?"

"Admit it. You'd be lost without me."

He's teasing, of course, but there's truth in his words that she can't quite deny. Her smile slowly grows wistful, but rather from grief, this time it's from gratitude. She doesn't answer him, but before he questions her sudden change in demeanor, her quiet voice is filling the space between them again. "You know, back in my mom's garage, I meant what I said to you," she admits softly, pulling her lower lip between her teeth for just a moment before she realizes it and stops herself. "You and me…we're good together. And I do…trust you like no one else. And I just…whatever happens, I, uh, want to make sure you know what that means to me. Callen and Sam wouldn't have let me do what I needed to do, and they sure wouldn't have played along with my plan. I just…I guess what I'm saying is.."

She sighs and finally tears her gaze away from his, shifting as she goes to relax against him again. "Thank you, Deeks."

And then, she surprises him. Just before she rests her head upon his chest again, she cranes her neck just enough to press a soft, quick kiss to the very corner of his lips. It's so quick that for a moment he thinks he imagined it, but the tingle at the corner of his mouth proves otherwise. "What – what was that for?" he asks after a moment.

Kensi smiles coyly – he can't see it now, but she knows he hears it in her voice. "No reason."

Deeks doesn't pursue that further because when she nestles closer against him, tucking her head beneath his chin, for once in his life, he finds there's no need whatsoever for words.

Just before the movie reaches its heartwrenching end, he silently reaches for the remote and turns the TV off, quickly plunging the den into darkness just moments before Jack would descend into the icy depths, leaving Rose behind forever. He switches it off with a smile on his face because he knows that's not how _they_ work. Not how Kensi Blye and Marty Deeks work - not how _this thing_ works.

He'd meant what he'd said to her in the garage, too. His decisions _weren't_ about the team; they weren't about what was right and what was wrong.

No. His decisions had been solely about _them_. The two of them.

Anytime she ever tumbles overboard, he's going down with her.

And then, he's bringing her back to the surface.

Lips quirked in a smile, Deeks makes that his silent vow to her. And then, finally, he simply closes his eyes and waits for sleep to claim him, knowing that the beautiful woman in his arms, his partner, his _Kensi, _had surrendered herself just about twenty minutes before.


End file.
